


sunshine in the sea

by Sparrows



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 5.0 spoilers, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Hurt/Comfort, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pre-Relationship, The Light sucks, but definitely headed in that direction, the other scions are present but not enough for character tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparrows/pseuds/Sparrows
Summary: A moment of respite in the depths of the Tempest. Thancred attempts to offer comfort to a suffering Warrior of Darkness.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Thancred Waters
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	sunshine in the sea

After almost two full bells spent chasing the distant lights of the Ondo’s ‘illuminated city’, winding deeper into the depths of the Tempest, it gradually becomes clear to the group that they need to rest. It’ll take time they technically aren’t able to spare - nobody is quite willing to look at V’rahna when Urianger points this out, though her shoulders slump in on themselves in acknowledgment - but whatever awaits them in the depths will require their full strength to face.

The meal is a dismal affair by anybody’s standards, packed rations eaten around a campfire Y’shtola had resorted to using fire magic to light; anything down here that might even remotely resemble kindling is still _far_ too waterlogged to burn properly. Ryne tries, once or twice, to spark a conversation, though the attempts inevitably fall flat only a few words in. Thancred eats methodically, carefully, as though if he focuses only on the motion of fork-to-mouth-to-plate-to-mouth he can drown out the situation they are all mired in.

Afterwards, Ryne and the twins settle down to sleep by the fire, curled around each other like littermates - Alisaie and Alphinaud holding hands so tightly their knuckles have gone paper-white - while Y’shtola and Urianger speak in hushed tones on the other side of it.

And V’rahna...

Thancred finds her outside the cave, knees tucked up against her chest and arms hugging her shins like some lost, frightened child. She does not look up when he approaches, though her ears prick ever-so-slightly upwards.

“You should eat something,” Thancred says to her, careful to pitch his voice low enough that it won’t carry back to the others. “I know it’s hardly a match for the Crystarium’s _fine dining_ , but—”

“I’m not hungry,” V’rahna whispers, her now-golden gaze lifting from where she’d been staring absently out into the Tempest’s darkest reaches. Curled at her side, her tail flicks once or twice against the stony ground. “Thank you, Thancred, but I’m just... I’m not hungry.”

 _Bullshite_ , Thancred thinks but doesn’t say out loud. What he says instead is, “I haven’t seen you eat a bite since— well, before— before _then_.” The words _Mt. Gulg_ stick in his throat and refuse to pass his lips. In the sennight since she killed Vauthry, he’s seen that mountain in his dreams almost every time he closed his eyes.

“I know.” The miqo’te picks up a fallen chunk of coral and bounces it in her palm before throwing it forward; it bounces twice, skittering against the still-damp stone, and then plunges off the ledge and into the darkness. Her ears, their copper now threaded with strands of flax-white, twitch briefly at the sound it makes. “And I’m _not hungry_.”

She glances up, then, something in her eyes strained and painful, begging him to understand, and that’s the moment Thancred remembers.

( _What a sin eater does not corrupt, it consumes._ The first lesson for anyone looking to hunt the monsters of Norvrandt.)

“Ah,” Thancred says eloquently, and moves to sit beside her, huffing out a sigh as he settles.

“ _Ah_ , indeed.” V’rahna smiles wanly at him, her whole body canting sideways until she comes to rest against him, her head pillowed against his shoulder. “And here I thought you were a bard, once upon a time?”

Thancred snorts, a little rueful as he remembers exploits that now seem a lifetime behind him, and shakes his head, careful to avoid dislodging her. “I cannot wax lyrical _all_ the time, my dear. I fear it would rather lose its impact, if I did.” He pauses, glancing behind them to where the campfire yet burns inside the cave, and nudges V’rahna with an elbow. “Are you... are you still cold?”

He remembers well the day the Scions brought her down from the mountain. He may well never forget it. His arms had been near ready to give out by the base of the Talos, and yet he’d been loath to part from her; he’d carried her the whole way down, cradled against his chest like something precious. It had been like carrying a corpse, almost, save for the fact that she had continued to draw breath. She’d been so still, her skin ashen and clammy and above all else, _cold_.

V’rahna sighs, breaking him from the memory. “I’m... not sure, honestly,” she mumbles. “It’s hard to tell. Mostly I just feel... numb?” She lifts a hand, turning her bare fingers this way and that until Thancred reaches over and stills them with his own.

He immediately hisses a curse under his breath. “Seven _hells_ , it’s like touching _ice_ ,” he says, sitting up. “Come here. If you’ll not sit by the fire like a _reasonable person_ — well. I’ll not have you freezing to death on _my_ watch.”

A thin flush of colour rises to her cheeks; it’s the liveliest he’s seen her in days. “I— I don’t want to be a burden,” she starts to say, but the rest of the sentence withers on her lips as Thancred starts to shrug out of his coat. He drapes the heavy, reinforced fabric over her shoulders with a flourish, tucking it around her like an oversized blanket. The effect it has is almost immediate: her shoulders slump in relief and she burrows deeper into the coat, dwarfed utterly in its folds. With a sigh and the smallest of smiles, he watches her nuzzle a cheek against one well-worn lapel.

Reaching out and pulling her down against his chest is the easiest thing in the world.

He cradles her there, her head tucked up under his chin, his arms wrapped around her shoulders as though he can shield her from the outside world with naught more than himself. _Please_ , Thancred thinks desperately, looking down at what little of her face he can see from above like this, carding his fingers through the gold-stained locks of her hair - _please_. He’s not sure who he’s praying to, or even what he really _wants_ ; he just knows that he wants it so desperately, so fiercely, he can feel the aching of it all the way down to his bones.

Thancred feels more than sees the moment V’rahna relaxes against him, the tension draining from her as she goes slack. A hand, dainty and delicate, slips free from within the confines of his coat to pat across his chest. The pads of her fingers curl around one of the straps there as if to hold herself even closer to him. One ear flicks against the underside of his jaw, making him startle a little as the delicate hairs tickle his skin.

“Sorry,” she yawns, the word half-muffled by the leather of his armour. Thancred just huffs out a laugh, soft and weary, trailing his fingers through her hair. Most of her natural copper has been swallowed up by the Light’s radiance, the very tips scorched white as if in mockery of her natural highlights.

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” he murmurs, shifting his position against the rock a little to get comfortable. “Now, rest. Chirurgeon’s orders,” he adds, one hand ruffling through the back of her hair and leaving it tufted up strangely. She giggles at that, soft and sleepy and warm, and—

and her breath catches in her throat, like a hiccup. That’s all the warning either of them get.

Her entire body tenses up, every muscle locking tight and sending her breathing harsh and strangled. Thancred’s immediate thought is _Ryne_ , his next thought is _but I can’t leave her_ — in his arms, V’rahna twitches, convulsions cut short by the stiffness of her limbs— her hand clutches one of the buckles of his leather armour in a death-grip— a horrible rasping _whine_ spills from her lips, accompanied by flecks of something glowing and viscous and white, and a sound that might be his _name_ if she could shape the word properly—

_Gods, it’s Mt. Gulg all over again._

Thancred opens his mouth to call the others for help, powerless to do much more than watch the Light spark and flare in her wide, wild eyes. But before he can raise his voice, V’rahna collapses against him, weak and boneless, her breath coming in weak, fluttering gasps. Immediately Thancred tilts her face up towards his own, holding her as gently as if she were made of porcelain, as if she might crumble to dust in his grasp at any moment.

“Are you okay?” His voice wavers when he speaks, threatening to break; his fingers tremble when he runs them over and over through her hair while she shivers in his arms. “V’rahna?” No response. “Please, say something.”

It takes a long time - longer than Thancred would like, long enough that he’s half a mind to call for Ryne regardless - for her to respond. She does, eventually, letting out a faint whine. “It’s getting worse,” she whispers, the words coming as the barest breath. She’s a dead weight against him, too weak to lift her head; she nuzzles into his palm instead, half-lidded eyes still holding a touch of wild Light in their golden depths. “I— I don’t, I don’t know—”

A sigh.

“I can’t keep doing this.” Her voice is tiny, a broken little thing barely loud enough to hear. “I _can’t._ ”

Thancred presses his lips into a thin line. “We’re nearly there,” he says quietly. “It’s not much further.” What else can he say? What other reassurances can he give? No miracle cure awaits at the end of the road - no panacea that will lift the burden of the Light from her weary soul. They both know where this path leads. But... “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” he says, and means it.

V’rahna sniffles damply, her fingers once more curling against his chest. “Wake me when it’s time to go,” she mumbles, eyelashes fluttering shut. She does not relax, this time.

Thancred holds her close, stares out into the dark, and tries not to think about the Light.


End file.
